


Laws of Physics

by sevenfists



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-11
Updated: 2007-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-28 09:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenfists/pseuds/sevenfists
Summary: Sam lost his temper halfway through Utah.





	Laws of Physics

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to valiant and lemmealone.

Sam lost his temper halfway through Utah.

Dean had been pushing at him all week, leaving his dirty boxers in the bathroom sink, eating chips on Sam's bed and getting the crumbs all mashed into the sheets, picking his nose and wiping it on Sam's sleeve—all the usual bullshit Dean always did, but with a smirk that said he was upping the ante just to get on Sam's nerves.

They stopped for the night somewhere east of Salt Lake City, heading into the vast nowhereness that lasted until Denver. Sam fiddled with the key card while Dean kicked at the door jamb and whistled Metallica through his teeth.

"Dude, stop it," Sam said, pulling downward on the door handle. It blinked red at him and wouldn't open. "Shit."

"You're doing it wrong," Dean said. He leaned in and coughed on the back of Sam's neck, damp and germ-ridden. "Whoops. Hope you don't have any open sores, Sammy."

It was the last straw. Sam shoved the key card in again, and the light went green that time, _thank God_ ; he kicked the door open and shoved Dean inside, one hand at Dean's elbow and the other digging hard into his shoulder.

"Whoa, careful with the goods," Dean said, twisting against Sam's grip.

"Shut the fuck up," Sam said, releasing Dean to grab their duffels and throw them onto one of the beds. "You're making me crazy. How hard is it to just act like a normal person for once, Dean—you make me want to—"

"Make you want to what," Dean said, his voice dropping down an entire octave.

"Jesus, Dean," Sam said. Every molecule in his body recognized that tone of Dean's voice, knew what it meant. "Are you—you could just ask for it, you know, you don't have to—"

"More fun this way," Dean said, grinning, and stepped in, the toes of his boots nudging against Sam's sneakers. "You could—I dunno—"

"You could shut up," Sam said. He backed Dean up against the door, their hips pressing together, and grabbed at Dean's wrists, pinning them to the door above Dean's head. Dean's eyes flashed wide and startled, and his face went pink, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. The sight of it sent a thrill through Sam, something low and greedy, that bottomless need in him to see Dean like this, vulnerable and wanting it.

He stepped back, let go of Dean's wrists. "Get on the bed."

Dean left his hands where they were, stretched up over his head, his t-shirt riding up at the hem. "Now?" he asked, arching his back.

"Yep," Sam said. "And take off your clothes." He pulled his own shirt over his head, and by the time he got himself untangled, Dean had stripped naked and was sprawled out on the bed, thumbing at the rim of his cock. "Not like that," Sam said.

"Okay," Dean said, his eyelashes fluttering like a silver screen heroine's. He loved it, was the thing, would spread his legs and beg for Sam's cock like it was the easiest thing in the world—would do anything that Sam asked him to, as long as Sam asked right.

Sam climbed onto the bed and settled himself against the headboard, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. "C'mere," he said, his hands on Dean's shoulders, skimming over all that hot skin, down to palm at Dean's shoulderblades.

"How," Dean said again, turning over, pushing up onto his hands and knees. His cock was dark, swollen, the tip of it slick already and gleaming.

"On my lap," Sam said, and swallowed to see the flush spread down Dean's throat, the way Dean's nipples hardened. But Dean was shaking his head, pulling back, his mouth a tight line. "Dean," Sam said sharply.

"I'm not, uh." Dean sat back on his haunches, ran one hand over his head. "Uh. Sam—"

"Yes or no," Sam said. "If you don't want to, we can get dressed and go get some food." And he would do it, too: pull his shirt back on, adjust his hard-on in his jeans, and watch while Dean ate whatever greasily disgusting concoction he so desired.

Dean chewed on his lip, clearly weighing his options. "Yes," he said, but didn't move.

"Then come on," Sam said, grinding the heel of his hand against his erection and feeling that sweet pulsing urge to be inside Dean's ass as soon as possible. He unbuttoned his jeans and shoved one hand into his shorts, curling his fingers around the base of his cock.

"Uh. Okay," Dean said, and crawled up the mattress, lay himself down over Sam's lap, his movements slow and stilted.

"That's it," Sam murmured, rubbing at the tense muscles of Dean's lower back. "Take a deep breath."

Dean sucked in a shuddering breath and pushed up onto his elbows, his cock digging into Sam's thigh, his ass shifting. "I can't, Sammy."

"You will," Sam said. "Shh. I'll take care of you. Just—" He slid his hand up Dean's back, curled his fingers at the nape of Dean's neck and pressed his head back toward the mattress. Dean slumped down, all sprawled out across Sam's lap, thighs parting.

The sound Dean made was wordless, a thick noise in his throat.

Sam left his hand there, holding Dean down. He pulled his other hand out of the open fly of his jeans and stroked the curve of Dean's ass, grinning at the way Dean twitched beneath his touch. He slid his fingers into the cleft, feeling the slightly damp warmth, the crisp give of hair. Dean tensed up, his arms shifting, but Sam tightened his hand on Dean's neck and Dean subsided, exhaling.

The air conditioner cut on, blowing a cold breeze across Sam's bare chest. He lifted his hand away from Dean's ass and brought it down sharply, his palm cracking against the back of Dean's thigh.

"Fuck!" Dean yelped. He drew up his legs, getting his knees under him.

"Do you actually want to get away?" Sam asked, brushing his fingers against Dean's balls.

"I. _No_ ," Dean said, his words muffled by the blankets.

"I know you don't," Sam said. He slapped Dean's thighs again, then soundly in the middle of his ass, watching the flesh and muscle ripple. "Look at you, Dean. All stretched out for my hand."

Dean whimpered, groped at the sheets.

Sam smacked Dean's ass thoroughly, pausing between blows to stroke his palm over the pink skin, slow flush of blood rising to the surface. Dean panted and rocked his hips against Sam's thigh, the head of his cock bleeding wetness into the denim. "Christ," Sam breathed, "you love this."

"Harder," Dean said.

"You're not in charge here," Sam said, and cracked his hand down again.

"Sammy," Dean said, "Sammy, please, I need—"

"I know what you need," Sam said. His duffel was on the other bed; he leaned over, reaching precariously, and managed to grab one of the straps and haul it close enough that he could fish the lube out of the side pocket.

The cap flipped open with a snap, and Dean shivered at the sound.

"Shh," Sam said, coating his fingers. "Just—hold on—"

""Hurry up," Dean said, wriggling.

Sam smacked him again for that. "You'll wait as long as I want you to," he said, and shoved two fingers into Dean, all the way in to the knuckle.

Dean hissed through his teeth, pushed back against Sam's fingers. "Please," he said, "Sammy, please, _please_."

"I've got you," Sam said. He stroked his fingers in, feeling Dean's tight heat ripple around him, feeling the tendons in Dean's neck tighten up beneath his free hand. He was going to come in his pants if Dean didn't stop moaning like that, like Sam was giving him everything he could possibly hope to ask for. "You want my cock inside you?" Sam asked.

" _Christ_ ," Dean choked out, and came in hot pulses all over Sam's jeans.

"I'll take that as a yes," Sam said. Dean was still shuddering out the last of his orgasm, but Sam took his hand off Dean's neck and started tugging at his shoulders, pulling him up.

Dean caught the momentum and pushed himself up on unsteady arms, following Sam's guiding touches. He moved until he was straddling Sam's lap but facing away from him, his arms reaching back to clutch at the headboard. His thigh quivered beneath Sam's hand.

"Good," Sam said. "That's perfect." He bent his head and mouthed along Dean's biceps, biting carefully. He wrapped his slick hand around his cock, pulling it fully out of his jeans, and nudged the head against Dean's opening. "You're ready for it."

"Yeah," Dean said, and sunk his hips down onto Sam's cock, twisting as he worked all of Sam inside.

Sam grunted harshly, resisting the urge to thrust up. Dean was so tight, never did seem to loosen up, and it was slick and sweet, Dean's palm-warmed ass hot against Sam's thighs, even through the denim. Sam wanted everything: Dean hard and begging for it, Dean begging, Dean making fun of Sam for losing his mind from it. "Oh Christ," Sam said, clutching at Dean's hip with his sticky hand, smearing the remnants of lube across Dean's skin.

The muscles in Dean's forearms bunched as he pushed himself off Sam's cock, lifting up until the head popped out, and then sinking back down, faster this time, stretching so fucking wonderfully to take Sam in.

"That's right," Sam said. "I want you to fuck yourself on me." He reached around and felt at Dean's cock—it was half-hard again, wet with come, and Sam dragged his hand through the mess of it, thumbing at Dean's slit until he was pulsing in Sam's grip and gasping from it. Dean's hair was dark with sweat at the back of his neck, and Sam leaned forward, licking at the salt there.

"Jesus," Dean said, "Sam, you're so—"

"I know," Sam said, and bit at the thick muscle of Dean's shoulders. "You're doing so good, baby. Just—come on, lift your hips up. A little faster." Dean was going so slowly, taking his time, fucking himself with lazy rocking movements that were making Sam's eyes roll back in his head, a constant sweet burn along his cock, better than anything else in the world.

Sam's jeans had to be painful against Dean's ass, but Dean didn't seem to care, his movements forceful and steady. He panted harshly, his hips rolling, and then he started going side to side instead of up and down, clenching around Sam's dick, and Sam lost it then, going off in long, slow shivers, the last inadvertent twitches of his pelvis gliding easily through the slickness he'd left there.

"Ohhh, yeah," he grunted, coming down, "Christ, Dean, so good, your tight ass—"

"I think you're—objectifying me," Dean said, and took one hand off the headboard.

Sam hooked his chin over Dean's shoulder and watched as Dean tugged urgently at his own cock, the purple head sliding through his fist, his thumb flickering over the top every other stroke. Dean was still moving his hips, working Sam almost to the point of pain, but Sam didn't make him stop, let Dean roll out his orgasm, spurting all over his own fist and his belly and the hand Sam brought up to smear through it all.

"Holy _shit_ ," Dean said.

"Yeah," Sam said, and tipped his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and let himself pass out for a few moments.

He opened them again when he felt Dean pull off him, felt the mattress shifting. He watched as Dean sat on the edge of the bed and mopped at himself with a corner of the sheet. His hair was all messed up, and his back was slick with sweat, gleaming in the crappy, flickering light from the overhead fixture.

"Are you, uh. How are you," Sam said.

Dean stood up and stretched, arms high over his head, arching his back and groaning, low and pleased. "Jesus, Sammy."

Sam's face went hot. "Uh, sorry." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I guess I got kind of carried away—"

"For Christ's sake, don't make me beat you like the little bitch you are," Dean said. "We really have to have this goddamn heart-to-heart every time?"

"Well, I just want to make sure you're okay with this—"

"Yeah, cause I'd really let you do it to me if I didn't want it," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Are you fucking serious? I could take you any day of the week, assface."

"I kicked your ass two days ago," Sam said.

"That was a goddamn fluke and you swore you'd never mention it again," Dean said. He started poking around at the foot of the bed, sifting through their clothes until he found his boxers. "Anyway, whatever, it's just _sex_ , dude, quit giving yourself a freakin' heart attack."

"I just don't want you to feel like we don't have an equal relationship. Or whatever," Sam said. "I mean, are you sure there isn't anything you want to talk about—like, if you've got any issues you need to work through, I mean, I'm here to listen—"

"Uh, I just like dick, Sammy," Dean said, and pulled on his boxers.

"Oh my God," Sam said.

"That's what you get for actin' all girly," Dean said. "Now shut the fuck up and go get in the shower, I'm goddamn starving and if I don't get to eat half a cow within about forty-five minutes, I'm gonna make you pay for it for the rest of our lives."

"I'm pretty sure you couldn't eat half a cow," Sam said, getting off the bed and stripping off his filthy jeans.

"It's a figure of speech!" Dean said.

"You probably consume so many growth hormones that you'll end up with _tits_ ," Sam said, and laughed at Dean's horrified face, and then had to duck into the bathroom to avoid the boot that Dean threw at him.  



End file.
